


where you lead, I will follow

by teacass (Fushigi)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Gilmore Girls Setting, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fushigi/pseuds/teacass
Summary: “Cas,” Dean says. “Light of my life. The sole provider of my happiness. The reason I get up in the morning. The bestest friend I have ever had. Please, give me coffee.”--Or five Christmas Eves Dean had coffee at Cas' cafe, and one Christmas night he didn't. A small Gilmore Girls AU with coffee, Christmas trees, and first kisses.





	where you lead, I will follow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SPN Holiday Mixtape. As always, thanks to Lauren for all the help! You deserve all the Christmas cookies.

## December 24, 2008

“SAM!”

Sam stumbles into the kitchen, expression worried. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

“It’s the end of the world,” Dean says. “We’re all out of coffee.”

“What?” Sam frowns and moves closer. “How’s that possible? We’ve only been here for three days.”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “I have no idea, man. Someone must’ve broken in and stolen it from us while we were sleeping.”

Sam sends him a calculating look. “Uh-huh. Of course.”

“Well, you have any other explanation, smart guy?” Dean asks and shows the empty coffee can to his brother. “Look. It’s all gone.”

“And I know very well where it is,” Sam says smugly, then points to Dean’s stomach. “There.”

Dean looks down. “Where? I can’t see it.” 

Sam smacks him on the shoulder with an open hand. “You’re a coffee addict.”

Dean ignores him. “What do we do now? I _need_ coffee, Sam.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you drank all of it,” Sam says and retreats back to his room. Dean follows him, the empty coffee can left on the kitchen table among all the boxes and plates.

“Let’s go out and buy more coffee,” Dean suggests. 

Sam waves around his room. “Dean, I’m in the middle of unpacking. I’ve just started on the books and I really need to finish it tonight if I want a place to sleep. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. Nothing’s going to be open now.”

“I’ll find something,” Dean says. “And if I do, I’m not bringing any with me.”

Sam tosses an empty box at him, but Dean flees his room and goes out.

It’s only a ten-minute walk to the centre of town, so he leaves his car in the driveway and walks. He passes small houses full of Christmas decorations, little closed stores overflowing with Christmas lights and evergreen branches, even park benches which are somehow covered with snow even though it hasn't snowed since they got here. Dean reaches what he thinks must be the centre of the small town and stands there for a moment, staring at the glittering gazebo in the middle of the square park.

Then he notices a light in one of the windows on the other side of the street — the usual, non-Christmas kind — and he rushes over. He grins when he notices it’s a cafe.

It’s bright inside and the sign says ‘open’, but Dean can’t see anyone through the big windows. He shrugs and pushes the door open anyway, looking around curiously.

“Hello?” he calls. “Anyone here?”

A loud yelp comes out of the room behind the counter. Dean startles and looks in that direction just in time to see a person fall down on their ass from the small ladder that sways, tilts towards the wall, and crashes into the light bulb which smashes loudly and sprinkles the person with tiny bits of glass.

“Shit,” Dean curses. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that, I swear!”

Dean rushes behind the counter. The person sitting on the floor in the middle of the broken light bulb turns out to be a man in his early thirties, with dark hair and a ridiculous blue sweater. He looks up at Dean, eyes wide.

“Who are you?” he asks, voice rough.

“I’m Dean,” Dean says with a little wave. “Sorry again.”

“Dean who?” the man grumbles and stands up. Dean grabs him by the arm and helps him up, despite the wide-eyed look the man sends him. 

“Dean Winchester,” Dean says with a smile. “I just came in looking for some coffee.”

The man doesn’t respond or offer his own name, just looks up at the broken bulb and sighs. “It was a new one.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeats. “I had no idea someone was even here.”

“Of course I’m here,” the man says, looking confused. “Where else would I be?”

“I dunno,” Dean says with a shrug. “I only just moved here.”

The man looks at him, eyes calculating. Dean notices they’re very blue, even in the dim light falling in from the main room of the cafe. It’s probably because of his sweater. 

“You said your name is Dean Winchester?” the man asks.

Dean grins. “The one and only.”

“I’ve heard about you,” the man says. “Your and your brother’s arrival is currently quite the town gossip.”

“Oh,” Dean mutters. “Really? That’s… nice, I guess.”

The corner of the man’s lips turns up in a barely-there smile. “I’m Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you officially, Dean.”

Castiel reaches out a hand and Dean shakes it with a smile of his own. “I’d return the sentiment, but I’m afraid I haven’t really heard about you before. But I’m sure that’s only because I’ve barely left the house for the last three days.”

Castiel nods. “I gather you’re still unpacking?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where all that stuff came from,” Dean says with an embarrassed half shrug.

“Why are you out of the house now, then?”

“Ah.” Dean chuckles. “The craziest thing. We’ve run out of coffee.”

Castiel smiles. “You’re in the right place, then, Dean.”

## December 24, 2009

“Hi, Cas,” Dean calls, rushing through the door of the cafe. “Coffee to go?”

Castiel doesn’t look up from the register. “Come up here and order like a normal person, Dean.”

Dean groans. “Come on, Cas. I’m already late.”

When Castiel doesn’t respond, Dean rolls his eyes and walks over to the counter, stopping right in front of Castiel. 

“Good morning, Mr. Novak, how is your day going? Mine’s good, thank you very much. Yes, I’ll give my regards to Sam. Could I bother you for one cup of coffee, black, to go, please? Thank you very much. Keep the change.”

Castiel looks up at him with a trace of smile. “Much better. And thank you for the change. For all those time you didn’t pay for your coffee, it’s time you finally started giving back.”

“I always want to pay, it’s you who keeps giving me coffee for free,” Dean says with a nonchalant shrug. “I know I’m irresistible and all, but there are limits, Cas. You should get some help.”

Castiel levels him with a look. “I’ll consider it. Do you want something with your coffee?”

Dean slams a five dollar bill on the counter. “No thank you, good sir.”

Castiel arches an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure? A donut? A scone? Maybe a danish?”

“Nope.” Dean shakes his head. “Just coffee.”

“Are you feeling alright, Dean?” Castiel reaches out and puts a warm hand over Dean’s forehead. “I think you might have a fever.”

Dean swats at his hand. “I’m fine. Just in a hurry.”

“Mhm,” Castiel hums and turns to grab a pot. “And why are you in a hurry?”

“Because I overslept,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “I’m having dinner with Lisa and Ben and her parents today, and it’s ten kinds of super official, and I really, _really_ can’t be late.”

Castiel hums again, pours Dean’s coffee, but doesn’t give it to him. Instead, he sends him a skeptical look. “It’s eleven, Dean. I’m sure you’re not going to be late for _dinner_.”

“They’re doing this whole… thing,” Dean says with a shudder. “We gotta be there by noon and it’s only half an hour drive but the roads are icy and it’s gonna take forever to get there. I need to pick up Lisa and Ben in… four minutes,” he says, looking up at the clock hanging above the counter.

Castiel frowns. “You’re not going to make it.”

Dean laughs. “Probably not. Especially if you refuse to hand me that coffee _now_.” 

Castiel pushes the cup into Dean’s waiting hands. “Why did you even come for coffee in the first place if you’re running late?”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asks. “Cas, do you even know me?”

Castiel huffs out a dry laugh. “Fair enough. Don’t you want coffee for Lisa?”

Dean shakes his head. “She’s been drinking all this weird herbal crap recently. I don’t even know why I’m still seeing her.”

Castiel scowls at him. “She may be onto something, Dean, you know.”

“What? Impossible.”

“So…” Castiel says when Dean covers the cup and is about to leave. “You’re finally meeting Lisa’s parents?”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah. Wish me luck, man. They’re gonna hate me.”

“They won’t hate you,” Castiel says. “Why would they?”

“Because they’re weird,” Dean says. “And I’m weird, but I’m different weird. I dunno. I guess we’ll see. I’ll have a few days to figure them out before they force me to leave their daughter alone,” he laughs.

“I’m sure it’s not true,” Castiel says softly. “They’re gonna love you, Dean.”

“Thanks, man,” Dean says with a smile. “Shit. Okay. I really gotta run.”

“Dean?” Castiel calls when Dean turns back and all but runs to the door. Dean looks over his shoulder at Cas.

“Yeah, Cas?”

Castiel looks as if he’s thinking of saying something for a second, but then he just shakes his head and sends Dean a small smile. “Have a good Christmas, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “Yeah, Cas, you too. See you in a few days.”

He waves and rushes through the door, thinking of all the possible explanations for his tardiness he could offer Lisa.

## December 24, 2011

“Dean,” Sam grouses. He has his hands tucked underneath his armpits and he’s stomping his feet on the sidewalk, scowling at Dean as he does. 

Dean ignores him completely, peering in through the foggy window of the cafe instead.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam says again. “I’m going in.”

“No!” Dean glares at him. “Not yet.”

“What are we waiting for?” Sam snaps. “It’s freezing out here and I want coffee. Let’s just go in finally.”

“I can’t go in, not yet,” Dean says. “He’s still behind the counter.”

Sam rolls his eyes and then, before Dean can stop him, he turns away and walks straight into the cafe. Dean tries to call after him, but it’s too late — he can see it all happening through the window now: Sam stepping in, greeting Cas with a smile, sitting down by their usual table and ordering. Both of them look in the direction of the window, and Dean immediately ducks, hiding and cursing his brother in his mind. 

He spends the next ten minutes fighting with himself, and when he finally decides he loves coffee more than his pride, he still needs a few more minutes to gather his courage and go in. Casting Cas a careful look, he sits down on the edge of the chair just beside Sam, ready to bolt any second.

“I saved you the trouble and ordered you coffee,” Sam says with eyebrows raised. “Because I’m the best brother.”

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, sneakily watching as Cas moves behind the counter. “Thanks.”

“There’s fresh apple pie, I’ve heard,” Sam adds. “But if you want it, you gotta order yourself.”

“I’m good,” Dean says.

“Dean.” Sam sighs. “You’re being creepy.”

“No, I’m not,” Dean says, and then quickly hides behind the menu when Cas looks their way. “I’m simply reading the menu.”

“You know it by heart,” Sam says. “You realise Cas knows you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m not dumb,” Dean grouses.

“When are you going to talk to him?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Sam, so I’m not gonna push him.”

“How do you know he doesn’t want to talk to you?”

“I just do,” Dean mutters. Peeking over the menu, he notices Cas coming their way with a pot of coffee. “Just watch this.”

Sam rolls his eyes at him, but keeps quiet as Castiel walks over and starts pouring the coffee. 

“Do you want anything else?” Cas asks, voice dull. Dean catches his eyes, then quickly looks down at the menu.

“Um, no, thanks Cas,” he murmurs.

“Alright,” Cas says.

“He wants a slice of pie,” Sam pipes in. “And a muffin for me.”

“Okay,” Cas says.

“No I don’t,” Dean says. “Please don’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble, Dean, it’s my job,” Cas says, no trace of smile on his face, and then turns and walks away.

Dean lets out a tired sigh. “See? He hates me.”

“He doesn’t _hate_ you, Dean,” Sam says. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Is he?” Dean looks around the cafe, which isn’t particularly crowded, not any more so than usual. “No, Sam, he’s still pissed at me for blaming him for what his brother did.”

Sam lets out a groan. “I told you a million times, it wasn’t just Gabriel’s fault. I was there too, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re the only one that had to wear a cast,” Dean grouses.

“And Gabriel totalled his car,” Sam says. “It’s been two weeks, Dean. I think you’ve been fighting long enough.”

“We’re not even fighting, he was just gone and we didn’t have a chance to talk.”

“Well,” Sam raises his eyebrows and slurps his coffee. “This is your chance.”

“Now?” Dean baulks.

“We’re not in a hurry.” Sam shrugs. “We still have hours until we gotta get to Bobby and Ellen’s. Isn’t this what Christmas is for?”

Dean glares at him. “You’re a sap.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah. And you know it’s the right thing to do. Just go, Dean.”

Dean hesitates only for another minute, and then he stands up and walks over to sit by the counter. Cas, with a plate of pie in his hand, sends him a confused look.

“I decided to eat it over here, if you don’t mind,” Dean says hesitantly.

Cas doesn’t say anything, just places the pie in front of him. Dean watches him as he serves a muffin to Sam, cleans a table vacated by an elderly couple, and then slides back in behind the counter and starts polishing it lazily.

“So, hey,” Dean starts lightly. “I see you’re still mad at me.”

Cas sends him a blank look. “I’m not mad at you, Dean.”

“Oh, okay,” Dean says, “that was very convincing, thank you.”

“I’m not mad,” Cas says.

“Your face says otherwise,” Dean points out.

“My face has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh yeah, it does. It’s your _I’m pissed at Dean Winchester_ face.”

“There’s no face.”

“Yeah, there is,” Dean points a finger at Cas, “right here.”

“Whatever you think, Dean,” Cas says with a heavy sigh and turns away to prepare a fresh pot of coffee. 

Dean bites down on his lip. “Uh, can I get some too?”

Cas looks over his shoulder at him. “You've already ordered coffee.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, that was Dean, he came in here with his brother but then ran away because he was too ashamed to say how sorry he was. I’m Frank, I’ve never been here before, but I’ve heard you’ve got great coffee.”

Cas narrows his eyes at him. “Frank, huh.”

“Yes, Frank. Frank Palmer. I’m new to this town and I don’t know anyone. But I’d really like a cup of hot coffee right now, if you don’t mind.”

Castiel comes closer, eyes on Dean, and pours him a fresh cup. Dean smiles. 

“People were right,” Dean says. “It really is a very nice cafe.”

“Drink it before you judge it, Frank,” Cas mutters.

Dean does. “Yup. So nice.”

Cas doesn’t answer, but Dean thinks he can see a hint of the tiniest of smiles on his otherwise stoic face. He clears his throat and decides to just get it over with.

“Did you get my messages?” he asks.

Cas doesn’t look at him. “Is it Frank or Dean talking?”

Dean ignores him. “I left you like a million messages.”

“Four messages,” Cas corrects. “And yes, I got them.”

“Did you listen to them? I said I was sorry.”

“Yes, I listened to them.”

“And? You’re still mad?”

“I told you I’m not mad.”

“Cas,” Dean says. “It was a crazy night. Sam is my brother. I was worried, I was freaking out, and I took it out on you. It wasn’t your fault, and I’m… really sorry for blaming you like that.”

“I know,” Cas says quietly. “You’ve already said so in your messages.”

“And? What now?”

“What do you mean?” Cas looks at him with his big blue eyes. “What else do you want? I gave you pie, I gave you coffee. I’m here, I’m listening. I understand.”

“What I want?” Dean leans over the counter. “I want Cas back.”

“He’s right here,” Cas says, and even though he sounds a little tired, he looks like he’s smiling again. Dean lets out a sigh and sits back. He keeps his eyes on Cas as he eats the pie and drinks the coffee, and even though they don’t talk for the next few minutes, he feels a little better.

When he’s done, he pulls out a few bills from his pocket and leaves them on the counter. Cas meets his eyes and shakes his head.

“Keep it,” he says. “First-timers drink for free.”

Dean smiles. “Thanks, Cas.”

“Just… come back again soon, Frank.”

When Dean leaves the cafe with Sam at his heels, his brother is grinning at him stupidly — but he doesn’t care, because he thinks he’s grinning, too. 

## December 24, 2015

“Tell me, Cas,” Dean says, “what’s the point of having a tree in your cafe if you never light it up?”

“I don’t know,” Cas mutters, “you put it there in the first place, you should take care of it.”

“But it’s in your cafe,” Dean insists and drains the last drops of coffee from his mug. “I’m not always here, so I can’t be the one to remember about it.”

Cas just looks at him with eyebrows raised. Dean grins.

“Okay, maybe I am always here, but that’s not my point. Just go and plug it in, Cas.”

“It’s too late, I’m already closing.”

“You can leave it for the night, so that it’s gonna be ready when you open up again tomorrow morning,” Dean says.

“I’m not going to be here tomorrow,” Cas mumbles with his head hanging low as he polishes the counter. 

Dean narrows his eyes at him. “How come? You’re always open on Christmas.”

“Not this year,” Cas says. “I told you I’m staying at Benjamin’s this year.”

Dean swallows, a sudden twist in his stomach making him a little queasy. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Cas says, but he still won’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Benjamin,” Dean murmurs. “So, it’s getting serious?”

“I don’t know,” Cas says.

“You’re spending Christmas together, it must be serious,” Dean says cheerfully, and he hopes Cas can’t tell he doesn’t feel even half as happy as he sounds. “The cafe has always been open, ever since I first met you.”

“I remember,” Cas says and looks at him with a warm smile. “You made me break a new lightbulb.”

“I didn’t _make you_ do anything,” Dean laughs. “All I wanted was coffee.”

“Yeah,” Cas says, “and here we are, seven years later, and still all you want is coffee.”

“Sounds like another stupid Christmas song,” Dean comments with a chuckle. “All I want for Christmas is… your coffee.”

“Well, you’re not getting any tomorrow because I won’t be here. I hope you can survive that.”

“And what if I say no? Would you stay?” Dean asks.

Cas huffs a laugh and sends Dean a fond look. “I can leave you a key so that you can come in and make yourself a cup.”

“Mhm,” Dean muses. “So you’re choosing Benjamin over your friend of seven years. I see.”

“Dean,” Cas says with a sigh. “It’s Benjamin.”

“I know, I know,” Dean mutters and stands up. “Okay, I’m gonna leave now so that you can get ready or whatever. When you come back and I’m dead, know that it’s your fault.”

“It’s only for a few days, Dean,” Cas says. “You’ll live.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Dean laughs. When Cas comes over to grab Dean’s empty cup, Dean pats his shoulder. “Have fun, buddy.”

Cas smiles. “Happy Christmas, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “You too.”

He leaves the cafe, trying to convince himself the sour feeling in his stomach is hunger and doesn’t have anything to do with Cas being happy in a relationship with someone else. Someone that isn’t Dean.

## December 24, 2017

Dean barrels in through the doors, a flurry of snowflakes trailing behind him as he all but sprints to the counter and plops down onto the stool.

“Coffee, please,” he rasps and bangs his head against the counter.

“Hello to you too, Dean,” Cas says from somewhere above him. “How many coffees have you had today?”

“Dunno,” Dean mumbles against his hands. “Might’ve been ten. Might’ve been zero. I feel like it was zero.”

“I don’t believe you. It’s way past noon and I _know_ you can’t start a day without coffee. So?”

Dean groans and lifts his head to look at his friend standing behind the counter. A friend who’s holding a pot of deliciously black coffee and is scowling at Dean, blue eyes narrowed and lips pulled tight.

“Cas,” Dean says. “Light of my life. The sole provider of my happiness. The reason I get up in the morning. The bestest friend I have _ever_ had. Please, give me coffee.”

Cas doesn’t even change his expression. “Liar. You once told me pie was the reason you get up in the morning.”

“But I meant _your_ pie,” Dean says. “So, by proxy, I meant you!”

“Of course you did,” Cas grumbles, but then he’s pouring coffee into Dean’s favourite mug and passing it to him over the counter.

“Oh my God, you’re a life-saver and I love you,” Dean babbles and immediately starts gulping the offered coffee.

Cas arches an eyebrow at that. “That’s all it takes?” he asks.

Dean blinks at him, distracted. “What?”

“Nothing,” Cas murmurs. “Are you going to order anything else or are you just poisoning yourself with coffee today?”

Dean grins. “Well aren’t you a ball of sunshine on this fine morning.”

“It’s afternoon,” Cas says.

“Feels like a morning to me,” Dean says.

“It’s not,” Cas says.

Dean shakes his head and laughs. Even one drop of Cas’ coffee can make him feel ten times better. “I’ve been running errands like crazy since I got up today, so I guess the morning kind of slipped past me.”

“What errands?” Cas asks and frowns.

“Just errands, Cas. Real-life errands. Taking care of deliveries back at the B&B. Checking up on Benny’s holiday menu. Watching Bobby try to catch that damn ferret that’s been running around, laughing my ass off at his failure, and then calling someone to actually help with the problem. Putting up decorations. Just errands.”

Cas nods solemnly and doesn’t comment, starting to wipe down the counter that’s obviously clean instead. Dean grins at him, then slurps more of his coffee and looks around the cafe. 

“Where are yours, by the way?” he asks.

“My what,” Cas deadpans.

“Your decorations! The whole town is done already and you still haven’t put up even one twinkling light.”

“Are you seriously going to start this again?” Cas sighs. “We go through this every year, Dean.”

“I know we do.” Dean grins. “And I win every year. I was thinking you’d finally give up and decorate by yourself.”

“Not this year,” Cas mutters. “I refuse to yield this year.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Not gonna happen, buddy. Come on, bring out your holiday cheer.”

“I see no reason for decorating the cafe, Dean,” Cas grouses, like the grumpy bastard that he is. “I don’t celebrate and it only gives me more work to do after the holiday season ends. Especially since you never once volunteered to help me take everything down.”

“What?” Dean scoffs. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s not. You’re the first when it comes to wreaking havoc with all your Christmas lights and baubles, but then there’s no one to clean up after you. So no, thank you, Dean, this year I won’t be needing your help.”

Dean smirks at Cas over the rim of his mug. “We’ll see about that, Grinch.”

***

“Cas, do you mind?”

“Dean,” Cas says, confused, “what are you—”

Their eyes meets over the stack of boxes Dean is keeping pressed against his chest. He beams.

“Just hold the door for me, man,” he says.

“What is all this?” Cas eyes the boxes suspiciously, but helps Dean make room for them on one of the free tables. 

“You know very well what it is,” Dean says cheerfully. “I warned you.”

“Dean, no,” Cas threatens. “I told you I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are,” Dean sing-songs. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. I know you have no sense of artistry.”

“You are not helping me, Dean,” Cas says stubbornly, “because we are not doing this. I’m not giving you my permission to clutter up my cafe.”

Dean flashes him a smile and dives into the boxes, ignoring Cas’ continuous grumbling. The couple sitting by the table next to them is sending them curious glances and then stands up to admire the decorations Dean starts pulling out of the boxes. 

“Oooh, this is beautiful!” The woman croons, fingers brushing against the glittery garland Dean puts on the table. 

“We used to have one just like this, didn’t we, Cheryl?” the man asks cordially, pointing to the wreath adorned with silver bows and tiny white lights. 

Cas is scowling furiously when Dean pulls out a small wooden figurine of an angel and presents it to him with a grin. “Look how cute he is, Cas!”

Cas scowls harder. “He’s ugly.”

“No he’s not,” Dean protests, peering closer at the angel. “He kinda looks like you.”

Cas huffs and turns on his heel, going back behind the counter. “I don’t want him in my cafe.”

“Aw, don’t be rude, man,” Dean says. “Isn’t he cute?” he asks and shows the angel to the couple.

“He most certainly is,” Cheryl says with a smile. “Castiel, dear, you should hang him behind the counter.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Oswald,” Cas grumbles. 

Dean laughs to himself and deposits all the decorations back in the box before sauntering over to the counter and sitting down right in front of Cas.

“I’ll have a cup of coffee and a donut,” Dean says brightly.

Cas glares at him, but pours Dean a mug without a word. 

“People will love it, you’ll see,” Dean says.

“ _I_ won’t,” Cas mutters. 

“How can you know, I haven’t started yet. And you know very well I am a man of many talents.”

Cas just shakes his head. “This is the exact opposite of what I wanted. I want people to come in here and be able to _get some rest_ from the omnipresent holiday cheer. I want people to come in and wonder what time of year it is, because it most certainly doesn’t feel like December.”

Dean reaches out and pats Castiel on the shoulder. “We can do it in January, then.”

Cas huffs and hands Dean a donut.

***

When Dean drops by the cafe later in the afternoon, hauling the old Christmas tree he found in the B&B’s storage room, Cas seems to be almost done with the cleaning and closing for the day. When Dean pushes inside and deposits the slightly tilted tree in the middle of the empty cafe, Cas eyes it suspiciously, heaves a long-suffering sigh, and comes out from behind the counter to join Dean.

“You are a nightmare, Dean Winchester,” he says, but there’s no real heat in his voice. Dean has been doing this for a few years now, and Cas always complains like crazy but he always lets Dean to whatever he wants. 

“Yes,” Dean agrees gladly. “And yet you still like me.”

Castiel _hmpfs_ , eyes glued to the tree, and Dean spends a while just staring at him with a dopey smile. When their eyes meet over the top, Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Shall we?” he asks with a wide smile.

Miraculously, Cas doesn’t utter a word of complaint when they drag the tree to the corner of the room and Dean pushes a box of lights into Cas’ arms. While Cas is busy untangling them, Dean takes care of fixing the dusty branches and finding the perfect way to display the best side of the tree. He grins when Cas wordlessly starts hanging the lights and walks away to find something else to do.

“Where are you going?” Cas asks immediately.

Dean glances at him over his shoulder. “I’m gonna hang garlands over the counter.”

“No,” Cas says, and Dean wants to roll his eyes at him because really, how stubborn can you be, but then Cas adds, “Come here and help me with the tree first.”

“It’s not that hard, you know,” Dean chuckles, but he dutifully holds the end of the string of lights Cas hands him. “Even kids can do it.”

“It was your idea, so you’re keeping me company,” Cas mutters. 

Dean shrugs, but soon finds himself humming as he hangs glittering baubles and bows all around the tree, Cas quiet beside him, his hands surprisingly gentle when they touch the branches. He catches Dean’s eyes and hands him the star-shaped tree topper and makes a face.

“No, Cas,” Dean says, and pushes the star back into Cas’ hands. “You do it, it’s your tree.”

Cas shakes his head. “It’s not my—”

Dean reaches out and closes both of his hands over Cas’, just to make sure he doesn’t try to give the star back again. “Cas, come on. It’s your cafe! Stop being a little shit.”

Cas stares at Dean, but doesn’t move to free his hands from Dean’s grip. “I was trying to say it’s _our_ tree now.”

Dean smiles. “Ah. Yes. Yes it is.”

“So? Will you put the star on the top?” Cas asks, and Dean swears he can see a tiny smile on his lips as well. Finally.

“No, you do it.” Dean grins.

He lets go of Cas’ hands and moves back. Cas mutters something under his breath but reaches up and deposits the star onto the highest branch — and then spends a long moment fumbling with it, trying to make it stand straight, even though it keeps flopping onto its side.

“Wait, you gotta—” 

Dean moves in behind Cas to help him, and together, they manage to find the perfect spot for the star. Dean smiles and Cas turns to look at him, unsteady on his feet, and almost stumbles back into the tree. Dean catches him with an arm around his waist at the last moment and huffs a laugh against his face.

“You okay?” 

Cas looks up at him. “Ah. Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem, buddy,” Dean says lightly, even though his throat feels suddenly tight. He quickly lets go of Cas and turns back to find himself something else to do. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Cas asks after a moment.

Dean is busy untangling the garlands from another box, but he looks up, grinning. “You’re just trying to avoid decorating, aren’t you?”

“Okay, then, you don’t get coffee,” Cas says with a smirk.

“Just kidding. Please give me coffee.”

“How many have you had today?”

“Not that many.”

“I’ll make you tea,” Cas states, completely ignoring the look of indignation Dean sends his way, and grabs the kettle.

“You’re cruel,” Dean says.

“No, I care about your health. No one should drink that much coffee.”

“You’re a fiend,” Dean says. “I need caffeine to finish decorating this sad dump of a cafe.”

Cas narrows his eyes at him. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Also, there’s caffeine in tea.”

“Shouldn’t that be called… teaffeine?” Dean wonders. “Teaine?”

“Theine,” Cas suggests.

“Whatever. That’s not the same. I hate tea.”

Cas rolls his eyes, reaches back, and then pushes a cup full of black coffee into Dean’s hands without a word. Dean gasps and looks up at Cas with a smile.

“You’re an angel,” he whispers.

“And you’re addicted,” Cas responds.

Dean ignores him. “Speaking of angels, where are we putting this?” he asks and raises the wooden figurine of the angel.

Cas eyes it calmly. “In the backroom, where no one can ever see it.”

“I’m gonna hang it above your bed,” Dean says, “so that every time you open your eyes, you have to look at it.”

“And you’re calling _me_ cruel?” Cas asks. 

Dean laughs and goes back to decorating, sipping his coffee every now and then and smiling widely when he catches Cas’ grumpy look. Cas isn’t helping him anymore, but Dean doesn't care all that much — he’s having fun anyway. 

He can’t help but think of all the other times they did it — even though, for some reason, this year feels different, somehow. Maybe it’s because Cas definitely seems less annoyed than usual, or maybe it's because Dean knows he will be here tomorrow to grumble about lighting up the tree and serving Dean coffee. The one year Cas was away for Christmas — because he was spending it with his boyfriend of the time, Benjamin — was one of the weirdest Christmases Dean’d had in ages. 

Or maybe, a small voice in his head says, it feels different because it’s the first year Dean can finally admit he has feelings for Cas. And, because they’re both single now, nothing stands in Dean’s way to stop him doing something about it.

A few moments later he drains the last of his coffee and Cas immediately appears by his side to take his empty cup from him. 

“Are you going to be done anytime soon?” he asks.

Dean arches an eyebrow. “What, do you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes,” Cas says. “Far away from here.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Cas shakes his head. “The Christmas market, Dean? You were the one that wanted to go.”

Dean grins, relieved, and nudges Cas in the side playfully. Yes, of course. He invited Cas to go with him and Cas said yes. Cas isn’t going anywhere — at least not without Dean.

With a wide smile, Dean reaches for the small box sitting on the nearby table.

“Almost done,” he says. “One last thing.”

He pulls out a tiny branch of fresh mistletoe and dangles it in front of Cas’ face. 

“Dean,” Cas groans. “No.”

“I’m gonna hang it here,” Dean says cheerfully, pointing at the front door of the cafe. “Be careful when walking underneath it,” he says and winks.

“You’re a menace and I hate you,” Cas grumbles and stalks away.

“No, you don’t,” Dean sing-songs and reaches up to hang the mistletoe. It looks wonderful against the dark wood of the cafe’s door frame and Dean grins up at it, proud of himself. It may be stupid, and cheesy, and a complete failure in the end — but it’s worth a try. It’s Cas, after all.

“That coffee was decaf, by the way,” Cas calls out from behind the counter and when Dean stares at him, horrified, Cas has the nerve to actually look smug. He’s speechless when Cas walks over to him and hands him his coat, and he doesn’t say anything until they leave the cafe and Cas closes it for the night.

“If I fall asleep before midnight, it’s your fault,” Dean finally says.

Cas grabs his arm and drags him down the street, joining the other people heading towards the marketplace. “Of course, Dean. Now, let’s go get drunk on mulled wine.”

## December 25, 2017

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. “It’s officially Christmas.”

“Oh.” Cas, his cheeks rosy and dark hair wind-swept, looks at him with wide eyes. “You’re right. I didn’t realise how late it was, I should head home.”

Dean nods. “Let me walk you,” he says.

“You don’t have to,” Cas protests, but lets Dean grab his arm and tug him through the crowd of people wandering around the market. They say _goodnight_ and _happy Christmas_ and _best wishes_ to familiar faces they meet and soon leave the noisy and colourful market behind them and head towards Cas’ cafe.

“Any plans for tomorrow?” Cas asks.

“Oh, you know me,” Dean says. “I’ll sleep in, watch Sam freak over the new books I got him, and then visit my favourite place in the world to get coffee and breakfast.”

Cas turns and smiles at him. “I’ll be waiting.”

“You better.”

They reach the cafe soon. Dean looks up at the windows of Cas’ apartment above the cafe, and smiles when he sees a small lit up Christmas tree.

“I’m so proud,” he jokes. “I didn’t even have to remind you.”

“I’m learning from the best,” Cas says with a smile as they climb the few stairs and stop in front of the door. “Thank you, Dean. I had fun tonight.”

“I knew you would,” Dean says, smiling. “You only pretend to be so grumpy, but I know the real you.”

Cas opens the door and hides the keys back in the pocket of his coat. “Yes, you do,” he says earnestly.

Dean leans against the doorframe. “Hopefully, you’ll remember next year, too, Grinch.”

Dean watches Cas’ face closely, the pink tint to his cheeks and lips, the tiny black curls hanging over his forehead. Cas gazes up, then smiles fondly at Dean, blue eyes shining in the light coming from the street decorations. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” he says quietly.

Dean feels himself inching closer, yearning to wrap his arms around him and hug him tightly. He keeps his hands to himself, though, and smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Cas. See you tomo—”

Dean doesn’t have a chance to finish speaking, because that’s when Cas grabs Dean by the lapels of his jacket, pulls him closer, and kisses him on the lips.

All thoughts flee Dean’s head and he melts against Cas, bringing his arms to wind around his waist and kissing him back eagerly. Cas backs him against the doorframe, their lips moving and pulling breathy sounds from Deans’ mouth. 

When they part, Dean opens his eyes and stares at Cas, breathless.

“Wow,” he whispers. “What was that for?”

Cas doesn’t move back, just looks up with a small smile. Dean follows his gaze and notices the mistletoe he hung there a few hours before. He huffs a laugh.

“Oh, I see,” he says. “Tradition, right?”

Cas reaches up and touches Dean’s jaw gently. “It should be, yes.”

“Really?” Dean asks. His heart is beating so hard he’s afraid Cas can feel it where they’re pressed chest to chest. “You want it?”

Cas leans in and brushes his lips against Dean’s. “Only if you do.”

“As if you don’t know,” Dean says and pulls Cas closer to kiss him again. When they pull apart, they’re both panting. “But, wait. You don’t mean only at Christmas, right?”

“No, Dean,” Cas says with a smile. “If you’re willing, I’d love to continue this tradition after Christmas, too. The longer, the better.”

Dean laughs cheerfully and lets Cas drag him inside the cafe. “I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
